risked and suffered was now to be in vain, that he was to lose Golden
Adventurer, and probably with her sixteen men, one of whom had become a
friend.
Are you ready to heave on the anchor winches? he asked. We are going
to pull the bitch off. Jesus! said Baker. She's still half flooded We
will have a lash at it, cobber/ said Nick quietly.
The steering-gear is locked, you won't be able to control her. You'll
lose Warlock as well as - but Nicholas cut Baker short.
Listen, you stupid Queensland sheep-shagger, get on to those winches. As
he said it, Golden Adventurer disappeared, her bulk blotted out
completely by the solid, white curtains of the Engine room/ Nick spoke
crisply to the Second Engineer. Disengage the override, and give me
direct control of both power and pitch. Control transferred to bridge,
sir/ the Engineer confirmed, and Nick touched the shining
stainless-steel levers with fingers as sensitive as those of a concert
pianist.
Warlock's response was instantaneous. She pivoted, shrugging aside a
green slithering burst of water which came in over her shoulder and
thundered down the side of her superstructure.
Anchor winches manned. Beauty Baker's tone was almost casual.
Stand by, said Nick, and felt his way through that white inferno. It
was impossible to maintain visual reference, the entire world was white
and swirling, even the surface of the sea was gone in torn streamers of
white; the very pull of gravity, that should have defined even a simple
up or down, was confused by the violent pitch and roll of the deck.
Nick felt his exhausted brain begin to lurch dizzily in the first
attacks of vertigo. Swiftly he switched his attention to the big
compass and the heading indicator.
David/ he said, take the wheel. He wanted somebody swift and bright at
the helm now.
Warlock plunged suddenly, so viciously that Nick's bruised ribs were
brought in brutal contact with the edge of the control console. He
grunted involuntarily with the pain. Warlock was feeling her cable, she
had come up hard.
Starboard ten/ said Nick to David, bringing her bows up into that
hideous wind.
Chief/ he spoke into the microphone, his voice still ragged with the
pain in his chest. Haul starboard winch, full power. Full power
starboard. Nick slid pitch control to fully fine, and then slowly
nudged open the throttles, bringing in twenty-two thousand horse-power.
Held by her tail, driven by the great wind, and tortured by the sea,
lashed by her own enormous propellers, Warlock went berserk. She
corkscrewed and porpoised to her very limits, every frame in her hull
shook with the vibration of all her screws as her propellers burst out
of the surface and spun wildly in the air.
Nick had to clench his jaws as the vibration threatened to crack his
teeth, and when he glanced across at the forward and lateral
speed-indicators, he saw that David Allen's face was icy white and set
like that of a corpse.
